Biff Rambles On About … Lying About, A Flood of Emotions, Cooking With Greece, and Showing a Bit of Skin

Biff Hiking #4

It is Sunday morning here in Biffville (population:  sluggish).

Given the late hour (ten o’clock-ish), I’d like to say that I am up, dressed, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and going like a house afire.

But I would be lying.

And I try to never lie, unless the situation calls for it.

And, believe it or not, there are situations that call for a little prevarication.  You might remember such hits as, “No, officer, I had no idea this was a school zone” or “Yes Ma’am, that is one good looking baby!“, or “Oh, what a lovely gift!  Thank you!

The Great Biff-town Flood

I have an excuse for feeling sluggish today.  It has been raining here since Thursday evening.  And not just an ordinary rain.  It’s practically been a “cow on the roof” type rain.  I lost track of how many inches of rain we’ve received.  I’ve had to empty out my rain gauge several times because it was literally overflowing.  I’m guessing we’ve received upwards of ten inches of rain since Thursday evening.

And I’m not complaining.  I love rain.  I am a rain person.  Rain brings out the best in me.  I think I would be quite at home living in Seattle, except that I am incapable of growing a long gray ponytail and so I do not meet the minimum acceptable requirements for living there.

I think most people in Dallas love rain.  We see it so seldom that it is a novelty to us.  We live under constant drought conditions and so when it rains it is like a snow day for us.  We high-five each other.  We just stand at the window and look out at it and say how beautiful it is.  It feels like a holiday.  We stop feeling guilty for taking showers, for running the water until it gets warm, or setting our washing machine dials on anything other than “Water Saving Mode”.  Hell, we’d even rush outside and wash our cars, if that wasn’t a pointless exercise in a downpour.  But we might do it anyway, just for the sheer rush of getting to wash our cars without guilt.

Greece is the Word

In other, non-rain-related news, not much is different in my life.  The Biffingtons went to the Dallas Greek Festival yesterday.  It was a great time in spite of the fact that it threatened rain the entire time we were there.  In fact, it was almost always misting or lightly raining.  But the organizers of the DGF are not newbies and so everything had an awning over it.  In Dallas, you cannot go wrong with awnings.  If it is not raining hard enough to build an ark, the sun is blazing down so hot that one will expire without shade.

The food was amazing!  I had a gyro that was so good my mouth literally wept for joy.  I had stuffed grape leaves.  I had some sort of 4-cheese pastry.  I had baklava.  I drank Greek beer.  My taste buds were openly sobbing, thinking they had undergone a Rapture and were now in heaven.

And, honestly, I did not know there were so many Greek people in Dallas.  So many beautiful, colorfully-dressed, outgoing people!  With my (I think) Irish ancestry, I felt positively translucent in comparison.   It was easy to spot the Greek people.  Whenever the band would start playing a Greek tune, all of the truly Greek people would start to sway and snap their fingers.  Even if they were attending to food preparation or a Greek knicknack booth, you could tell they were about 2 seconds away from breaking out into a full Sirtaki, Hasapiko, or Kalamatianos.

It was a great time!  10/10 would recommend.

Skin Flicks

This past week it was time for my annual visit to the dermatologist.  My family was blessed with the ability to spontaneously grow moles.  So, I go in once a year to have my topographical map updated to see if there are any new features that bear looking at.  Usually everything is benign and so, after having a pair of ice-cold hands cover every inch of my body, I’m on my way without so much as a “I’ll call you!” or flowers or anything.  But such is life.

However, this time I made the mistake of saying I’d like to have some of the more annoyingly placed moles removed after having suffered their existence for most of my life.  Hardly were the words out of my mouth before my trigger-happy dermatologist had a can a freeze spray in her hands, a pair of safety goggles on, and was saying, “You might feel a slight stinging sensation”.

On that point, she did not lie.

She zapped about a dozen spots on my back in the space of about 2 minutes.

If you’re wondering what this feels like, it feels like someone stubbing out a lit cigarette on your back.  Except, instead of it being hot, it is ice cold.  While it did not hurt exactly, neither did it fall into the “Pleasure” category.

And now, several days later, I have entered the itching phase.  Itching is good.  It means they’re healing properly.  But having a dozen places on your body that you desperately want to scratch, but can’t, is frustrating in the highest degree.

Still, it is worth it.  Maybe someday I will have the porcelain skin I have always dreamed of.  Or perhaps I will be pocked with a topographical map of what looks like freezer burn.

A Dire Warning

I just wanted to announce that I may not be posting much for the next several weeks.  Not that I have been posting a lot in the previous few weeks.  But I have decided that I need to concentrate on some non-blog writing.  I love writing here and posting here and conversing with all my friends, but my non-blog writing has ground to a stop and I need to get back to it.

If it is like most projects I undertake in my life, I will be bored with it in a week or two and will come crawling back here asking you to forgive me.

But I just wanted to give you a heads-up.

Okay,  Now it is even later than it was when I started this post and I am still sitting here in my pajamas.  My coffee is cold.  My bagel is gone.  And I need to get up and pretend to accomplish something on this overcast, rainy day.

Have a terrific rest of your weekend!



  1. I book my dermatology visit yearly too as I’m a rare case of Mediterranean skin person prone to freckles 🤷🏻‍♀️
    I had to start neglecting my blog and wp too lately but my book is progressing very well…..I suppose it comes the time when you have to prioritize but the social side of wp is missed I must say😀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. If you really wanted to move to Seattle (or Portland, Eugene, etc), all you’d need do is get a tattoo (it would only sting a little) and a job at a restaurant. No ponytail necessary. I have a grandfather clause (although I’m not a grandfather) – I moved here before the tattoo thing was a thing.

    Enjoy that non-blog writing thing. The gloves are off…

    Liked by 1 person

    • I definitely will! And I’m so glad you love my stuff. That means the world to me. After spending decades of just writing stuff and storing it in boxes in the attic, it’s so great to have people actually read what I write. 🙂

      Someday I’ll get off my duff and figure out this online publishing thing and get something out there. Thank you for encouraging me!

      I enjoy your writing very much, too … so keep on writing!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Correction: My town (Eugene, Oregon) is the place for ponytail’s. We’re also the place to be if you’ve been riding a high since the Nixon administration. Enjoy the rain. Ours is coming and when it does it does not stop until June.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Bryan!

      I fail on all counts. My hair is too curly to grow into a ponytail, nor is it gray. Also, I haven’t ridden a high since I found out that my old car in high school was dumping carbon monoxide into the cabin when I revved the engine (which was always).

      I would love to visit Eugene some day. Everything seems so beautiful up that way. I think I could put up with the rain okay. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  4. When you mention Greek festivals, all I can think of is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I am still trying to figure out what a guest means when they bring the “boon-d-tah” – it’a CAKE! ? to a dinner I’m hosting.. but as for writing – I’ve got the great american novel inside me somewhere. I just haven’t found where I left it. enjoy your blogging hiatus.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi, NotDonner! Always great to hear from you. And I must admit a vast ignorance when it comes to Greek culture. It is … well … Greek to me. My only exposure to it was my few hours at the Greek festival yesterday.

      I hope your great American novel emerges soon! I can’t wait to get my copy of it.

      As for my hiatus … I’ll still be around …. just not quite as much. I’m trying to find the perfect balance between writing in my blog and writing other things besides my blog. I’ll let you know if I find success … but I am not hopeful.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Ha ha! I hate it when doctors or dentists try to prepare us for the excruciating pain we’re about to feel by giving us a tepid little warning. “Little pinch” is one of my favorites. It sounds so much better than, “You might feel a pain so excruciating that you black out, come back to, and then black out again.”


      • I once told one of my doctors “When is the last time you got this done to yourself????” Straight forward. And I am the quietest most trouble-free patient you can imagine… Fact is, said doctor had decided to install a drain in my belly without at least giving me local anesthesia. “It’ll just pinch a little” he said… and then the words came out of my mouth without warning, when I saw him picking up a scalpel!

        Liked by 1 person

        • Wow! I can’t imagine a doctor doing ANYTHING with a scalpel without SOME kind of anesthesia. Frankly, if scalpels are involved, I want to be completely unconscious with no hope of waking up during the procedure.

          As you pointed out, I think doctors begin to lose sight of how much pain they inflict on their patients in the interest of saving money or time.


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